


I'm not leaving you behind

by illusemywords



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AHS Hotel AU, Alternative Universe - American Horror Story, Basically scenes from season 1 except more Sterek, Canon-Typical Violence, Ghosts, M/M, Teen Wolf Reverse Bang, Teen Wolf Season 1 Rewrite, Warning: Peter Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 22:09:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11113875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illusemywords/pseuds/illusemywords
Summary: Stiles and Derek are trying to find the Alpha. It all goes downhill from there.Or, season 1 of Teen Wolf, now with ghosts.





	I'm not leaving you behind

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Wolf Hotel American Nightmare Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11101686) by [Elica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elica/pseuds/Elica). 



> So I've had a lot of trouble with this fic - most of the actual writing happened inbetween exams, and I was hoping to do some more editing on this in the past few days, but some really sudden real life emergencies came up, and I've had approximately 0 energy. This isn't what I had hoped to be posting, it's a little bit rushed, a little bit unpolished, but it's still a lot better than what I was working with a few weeks ago. This isn't how I wanted to return to posting fic after almost a year of no new content, but it is what it is.
> 
> I'd like to thank my wonderful artist, who made an absolutely beautiful manip for me to write about. This isn't what I wanted to end up with, but I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for all the inspiration. You can find their work on their [tumblr](http://cyrilcyrielle.tumblr.com/post/161467023253/sterek-reversebang-2017-my-contribution-in-art?soc_src=mail&soc_trk=ma) or on [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11101686)
> 
> Thanks to my Beta [congotsja](http://archiveofourown.org/users/congotsja/pseuds/congotsja) for really helping me out with this one
> 
> This is kind of an AHS AU, but not really - no knowledge of the show is required and it's pretty much nothing like the show.

Stiles has blood on his hands. In fact, it’s not just on his hands. There are droplets of blood on his face, long stripes on his once white shirt. There are pools of blood quickly seeping into the forest floor, soaking through his jeans.

A few feet away lies the mangled body of Peter Hale, his neck a mess of gore and guts. He’s almost gone – he’s not the one Stiles is worried about.

Derek lies in front of him. Stiles is hovering anxiously, holding his breath, scared that any disturbance will somehow make his injuries worse. At the same time, he’s scared that he’s not doing enough.

His eyes are closed, his breathing is weak, chest barely rising. There are deep cuts in his side, slowly healing bruises and swellings on his face.

Stiles isn’t completely unscathed either – there’s a cut above his eyebrow that’s still bleeding, blood dripping down into his left eye and obscuring his already hazy vision. His shoulder and a few of his ribs are probably bruised from when he’d been thrown into the wall, but Stiles can barely feel the pain. He can barely feel anything, completely focused on the man in front of him.

 “Derek,” Stiles whispers. His voice is a rough mess, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t get a response.

“Derek,” he says again, shaking his head, breathing heavily.

A panic attack is coming, Stiles can feel it. He’s lightheaded from the hyperventilating and the blood loss. And then Derek opens his eyes.

***

Stiles and Derek are in the lobby of the old Hale hotel. Scott has just left them to meet Allison, but Stiles stayed behind with Derek to keep working. They’re trying to figure out who it is who’s been attacking people around town. The police think it’s some kind of wild animal, but Stiles knows better. Werewolves. Werewolves are a thing that Stiles has recently been told about. And now here he is, with Derek Hale, another werewolf, trying to figure out what’s happening in his town.

So far, they have next to nothing. They don’t know who the Alpha is, because their scent is unfamiliar to both Derek and Scott, and even if they know them outside of their werewolf state, according to Derek there’s no guarantee that the scent would be the same.  

It’s been a few weeks of this weird teamwork thing, or whatever it is Scott and Derek and Stiles have got going on. It’s clear that Scott and Derek don’t like each other, and Stiles tries to mediate between them, but so far it’s not going to well.

And if Stiles is being honest, he probably wouldn’t have bothered if it wasn’t for the fact that he is kind of fond of Derek Hale. He’d only been back in Beacon Hills for a few weeks, and Stiles had been spending a lot of that time with Derek, trying to figure out what was going on.  

“You know, I used to hide under here when I was a kid?” Derek asks, running a hand across the wooden counter.

“Yeah?” Stiles is smiling softly. He likes hearing Derek’s stories, and he’d like to hear more, if he gets the chance.

“Yeah,” Derek says, and he’s smiling too now. “I wanted to be close to my mom, but she was always at the front desk working. And she wouldn’t let me onto the desk, because I’d just make a mess. So I’d sit under the desk and watch her work.”

“That’s nice,” Stiles says.

“I’ve been thinking about getting this place redone. Maybe opening it up again someday.”

Stiles smiles again. “I like that.” He looks around the large room. Most of the furniture is currently covered in white plastic, small points of contrast against the otherwise dark room.

“I don’t think my mom would want it to stay closed forever.” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “I miss her,” he says softly, in a rare moment of honesty. “I miss all of them.”

Stiles doesn’t really know how to respond to this, but he desperately wants to be comforting. He lays a careful hand on Derek’s shoulder, barely touching him to be ready to pull away quickly. He doesn’t seem to mind, just staring at the dark wood in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says, and he knows how inadequate those words are. He heard them all the time after his mother died, and it was never enough. But is it ever? Is there anything right to say when something like that happens? “And I’m sorry about your sister,” he continues.

The reason Derek had come back to Beacon Hills in the first place was to look for his sister. She’d come back to investigate the so-called animal attacks that had been happening, and when she stopped answering Derek’s calls, he’d come down here too. What he found hadn’t been pleasant.

“Thank you,” Derek says, still staring at the counter. “At least I’ve still got my uncle.” There’s a bitterness in his voice that Stiles doesn’t know what to do with.

Stiles knows about Peter Hale. Apart from Derek and Laura, he’s the only one who survived the fire. Stiles’ dad once told him that he’d been burnt so badly he was barely recognizable. He’d never recovered from the damage the fire did to him.

“I’m going down to see him now, do you want to come?” Derek asks suddenly, turning his head to look at Stiles. There’s a look on his face that Stiles can’t describe.

“Sure,” Stiles says. “I’ll come.”

Derek grabs the white plastic cover and pulls it over the counter, covering it so it looks like the other furniture in the room.

***

They take Derek’s car to the nursing home Peter lives. It’s already getting dark, and Stiles can’t imagine that visitors are still allowed at this time, but of course that’s not going to stop Derek.

He shuts the car off and walks in through the front doors. The hallway is quiet as they enter, and Stiles follows Derek to what he assumes is Peter’s room. The door is ajar, and when Derek pushes it open, the room within is empty. Derek frowns, taking a deep breath, and then he freezes.

“Stiles, run,” Derek says, voice very calm.

“What?” Stiles asks, confused.

“Stiles, it’s him. It’s Peter.”

Stiles’ eyes widen as he realizes what Derek is saying. Peter isn’t in his room because _he’s the Alpha_.

“Shit,” Stiles says, taking a step back. He turns to run, only to collide with Peter Hale himself, very much aware and not comatose as he had been the last time Stiles had visited.

“Hello, Stiles,” Peter says, a grin slowly spreading across his burnt face. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag now.” Stiles is frozen, eyes wide and mouth open. Peter grabs him by his shoulders and pushes him up against the wall, one hand against his chest holding him in place while the other holds a clawed finger against Stiles’ throat.

His heart is beating wildly as Stiles’ body catches up with what’s going on.

“Peter, let him go,” Derek says, eyes glowing blue.

“Now, why would I do that?” Peter is still staring at Stiles, head cocked to one side as he seemingly takes in every feature of Stiles’ face. “You like this one, don’t you Derek?”

Stiles takes his eyes off of Peter to catch a sideways glance of Derek’s reaction to his uncle’s words. His teeth are gritted, but he doesn’t reply. His eyes flit over to meet Stiles’ for nothing more than a second, but Stiles swears his heart skips a beat.

Peter chuckles, and Stiles looks back to him. He swallows heavily at the calculating look on his face and feels the sharp claw against his bobbing Adam’s apple.

“You know what? This might be fun,” Peter says, grinning wildly at Stiles. “Let’s see how fast you can run, Stiles.”

“Wha-“ Stiles begins, but Peter’s hand tightens around his throat and the word dies on his lips.

“Shh,” Peter mock whispers, as if Derek can’t hear them. “Don’t speak. Just _run_.” He removes his hands from Stiles’ body and pushes him down the hall towards the exit.

Stiles half walks, half runs, head turned back to stare at the two men. “Stiles, just _go_. Please,” Derek says, eyes glowing bright again as his face shifts into the animalistic features of his wolf.

“Yes, Stiles,” Peter says mockingly. “Just go. I’ll take care of Derek here and then I’ll come find you.”

Stiles’ eyes widen impossibly more as he freezes, back to the door. He knows what he should do. He knows what he’s supposed to do, what every other rational human being would do. But Stiles has never claimed to be rational.

No matter how much he knows what the sensible thing to do would be, he can’t quite bring himself to leave Derek behind. He just can’t, even as he watches his face change into something monstrous.

“Stiles, _run_ ,” Derek pleads again, and a second later he’s throwing Peter through a wall. “I can’t hold him off forever, so please go!”

Finally Stiles snaps out of his frozen state, pulling the door open and running across the parking lot. The nursing home is conveniently located at the edge of town, which also means it’s right on the edge of the preserve.

He doesn’t really think about where he’s going, he just runs. The forest is dark and he trips several times over rocks and roots. He gets up again, and keeps running. He has no idea where he’s going, he just knows that no matter what happens he can’t stop.

His breath is coming fast, his lungs are killing him, and he can hear his heart beating in his ears. Still, he doesn’t stop.

He trips again, and this time he stays down, face in the dirt, gasping for air. He knows he can’t stop, he knows he needs to keep going. When he looks up, he sees the intimidating height of the Hale hotel, just on the other side of the grove of trees he’s currently at the edge of. If he can just get there, maybe he can get help. He knows he can’t call his dad or the police, but he can call Scott, and any help is better than none. Derek might already be dead for all he knows, and there’s no way he can take Peter on alone.

He pushes his aching body from the ground, forcing himself up despite the pain running through every inch of his exhausted body. He staggers forward, a hand clutching his side.

And that’s when he hears it. A howl, ripping through the chilly night air, way too close for comfort. He can’t tell if it’s Peter or Derek, but he feels certain Derek wouldn’t scare him like that.  

He takes a few more steps, bracing himself against trees as he goes, trying not to fall again.

He’s nearly there, just a few short steps from the entrance, when he hears the sounds of twigs breaking under heavy footsteps. Something is coming, and it’s coming fast.

Pulling on his last few threads of energy Stiles speeds up and all but slams through the unlocked hotel front door. The lobby is dark, barely contrasted by the white plastic covering the furniture, and Stiles almost trips over.

He scares himself half to death when he accidentally knocks over a metal bucket that clatters across the floor noisily. Knowing he needs to find a place to hide, Stiles makes his way towards the left side of the room, hands out in front of him as he tries to feel out where the counter is.

His hands connect with slippery white plastic as he finally finds the counter. He knows he can’t have more than a few seconds before he’s found, and that this won’t be much of a hiding place against a werewolf’s senses, but it’s all he’s got. He walks around behind the counter and crawls under the plastic cover.

He leans against the hard wood of the desk, trying to make himself as small as he can in the tight space. His eyes are closed, his breathing fast. His heart still beats quickly in his ears, like a drum counting down to his inevitable demise.

Adrenaline is still pumping through his veins, and he feels himself freeze up as he hears the sound of wind blowing through the lobby as the door opens. Heavy footsteps echo against the wooden floors in the otherwise silent room.

Stiles’ eyes are still closed. He knows it won’t be long until Peter finds him, and he knows that if Peter’s here, there’s no way Derek is still alive. They might be family, but Peter is insane.

“Stiles,” Peter’s voice calls out, and it’s mangled and rough through what Stiles assumes is his sharp werewolf teeth. “I know you’re in here. There’s no use in hiding,” he stops and takes a deep breath. “I’ll find you soon enough anyway.”

Stiles holds both hands over his mouth to keep himself from making too much noise. Peter takes another step, floorboards creaking under his weight.

There’s suddenly a cold breeze surrounding Stiles, and he opens his eyes to see a young girl sitting across from him. Stiles’ eyes go wide and he presses his hands even harder against his lips to avoid the surprised sound that threatens to escape and give away his position.

The girl holds a finger up to her mouth, signaling for Stiles to stay quiet. She doesn’t say anything, and Stiles is beginning to wonder if he’s gone insane from the adrenaline and the lack of oxygen. Maybe this whole thing has been a bad dream and he’s really in a coma in a hospital somewhere.

Peter walks ever closer, sniffing the air. “Oh, I know where you are,” he says, and Stiles can almost hear the smug smile in his voice. “Hiding in my family’s hotel, like a coward. Do you know what happened here, Stiles? Do you know that my entire family were burned alive by hunters? That if it hadn’t been for them, they’d all still be alive right now. _Humans_ did this to us. And they say we’re the monsters. Don’t you see that I have to get revenge?”

He’s right on the other side of the counter now, slowly making his way around. Stiles can’t help the tears that a now running down his cheeks. “I can’t let them get away with it.”

It takes less than a second. The white plastic is torn away, and Stiles is dragged out from under the counter.

He doesn’t even get a chance to open his mouth before Peter throws him into the wall. Stiles cries out as his shoulder connects with the wall, and he slides down to the floor. His head is spinning, and when he opens his eyes he’s got a clear view of the underside of the counter. There’s no one there.

He doesn’t get a lot of time to think about it before Peter grabs him by his neck and pulls him up the wall again. Stiles pulls desperately on the strong hand choking him, trying to breathe. “I wish I didn’t have to do this, Stiles,” Peter growls, eyes glowing red. “But I can’t have you running off to tell someone about me. Not yet.”

Dark spots are dancing around the edges of Stiles’ vision, Peter’s voice is growing fainter. And then he lets him go. Stiles gasps air into his burning lungs, looking up and trying to make out Peter’s face through the tears blurring his eyesight.

Peter is staring down at him, head cocked to one side. “Or,” he says. “Maybe you can be of some use to me.”

Stiles shakes his head, whines and sobs the only sounds making their way out of his bruised throat.

“With Derek gone, I’m going to need a new pack. And I like you, Stiles. I can tell you’d make a good werewolf. So what do you say? Do you want the bite?”

“What?”  

“If it doesn’t kill you -” Peter says. “and it could – you become like us.”

“Like you,” Stiles repeated.

“That first night in the woods I took Scott because I needed a new pack,” Peter says, and he’s very close now, a lot closer than what Stiles is comfortable with. “It could have easily been you. You’d be every bit as powerful as him. You’d be equals. Maybe more.”

He leans in impossibly closer, mouth near where his hand is still resting against Stiles’ throat.

“No,” Stiles wheezes, shaking his head, trying to lean away. He knows that he has no real power to do anything if Peter decides to go through with it anyway, but he has to try. “I don’t want to be like you.”

There’s a flash of disappointment that crosses Peter’s face, before determination sets in. “Very well. You’ve made your choice.”

Stiles closes his eyes, knowing that he’d rather spend his last moments in darkness than looking at Peter’s face. He sits there, leaning against the wall, as the seconds tick by. One, two, three seconds pass, but nothing happens.

The only sound in the dark room is Stiles and Peter’s combined breathing, but there’s a chill running across the room. Stiles opens his eyes to see Peter staring at something on the other end of the room.

There’s a figure there, in the darkness, but Stiles doesn’t understand who it is until Peter speaks.

“Talia?” he says, and when Stiles sneaks a quick glance over at him he can see that his werewolf shift is gone now. All that’s left is smooth skin where his burn scars used to be. He must have finally healed.

He tears his gaze away from Peter, and looks over at the far end of the room. He can barely make out who’s standing there – it’s a beautiful woman. It’s not the girl from before – this woman is older, but there’s a resemblance there, definitely. Talia. Talia Hale. Derek’s mother. He doesn’t know what’s happening, if this is just some weird dream his mind is feeding him as Peter slowly suffocates him to death, but he’ll take this over consciousness any day.

“Peter,” the woman says. Peter is staring at her like he’s seen a ghost, and well, he has.

“Talia,” Peter says again, and he takes a step towards her.

“This isn’t what we want, Peter,” she says, and her voice, while faint, sounds strict and authoritarian. Stiles sure as hell wouldn’t question her.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter starts, but Talia interrupts him.

“Peter,” she says again. “This is _not_ what we want. We don’t want revenge. You can’t go on like this. You _killed_ Laura.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” he growls, and Stiles can’t see him but he’s sure he’s shifted again.

Stiles is so busy staring at the woman that he doesn’t notice when the girl from before suddenly appears at his side. She holds her finger up to her mouth again, before gesturing for Stiles to follow her.

He moves slowly, trying to keep quiet despite the pain in his body. The girl grabs his hand and leads him not to the front door, but through an open doorway behind the counter. He knows Peter will only be distracted for so long, and while seeing his sister might keep him occupied, it won’t be enough to make him give up on his wild chase for revenge.

She leads him quickly through the room and out into a hallway. They walk to the end of the hallway and there’s a door. She lets go of Stiles’ hand and turns to look at him.

“Through that door is a hallway. Go through it, and it’ll lead you outside through the back door.” Her voice is quiet, and she speaks hurriedly.

Stiles’ head is still kind of fuzzy from when he hit the wall earlier, but he knows that this is his only chance to get out. “Thank you,” he whispers to the girl, before pushing open the door and entering the dark hallway that looks like it’s seen better days.

After a few minutes of limping through the dark, he hits another door. He opens it, and after closing the door behind him all but collapses on the forest ground outside.

He turns his head and can see the hotel in the distance. The forest is silent around him, and Stiles can almost fool himself into thinking this is all over. But of course it isn’t.

A few seconds later, three things happen all at once. Derek comes stumbling out through the trees, Stiles throws up onto the forest floor, and Peter lets out an infuriated howl from somewhere inside the hotel.

“Fuck, that can’t be good,” Stiles mutters as he sits up.

Derek hurries over to him, kneeling down and staring at him with his big bright eyes.

“Stiles, are you okay?” Derek asks, frantically moving his hands over Stiles’ body, not touching, as if he’s scared he’ll hurt him.

“I’m – I’m okay,” Stiles tries to reassure him. “Derek, Derek, you need to go, he’s coming, you need to go.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Derek says, shaking his head.

“I’ll just slow you down, Derek, please, he’s coming.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Derek repeats.

“I’m too tired, Derek, I’m too slow. Just leave me, please.”

“I’m _not leaving you_ ,” Derek says again, very firmly. He helps Stiles up, one arm around his body, holding him up as they stumble forwards.

They don’t get far, and Stiles knew they wouldn’t get far, but it still hurts. The sound of Peter rushing through the forest reaches Derek before it reaches Stiles, but he can hear it now too. He’s close.

Derek helps Stiles over to a large tree, and leans him against it. His eyes are wide as he stares at Stiles, and he leans in to press a quick kiss to Stiles’ lips. Stiles stares back at him in surprise. He opens his mouth to speak, but Derek is already gone, disappeared through the trees.

Stiles sinks down until he’s sitting on the damp forest floor, back against the rough bark of the tree. From this position he’s partly hidden by the shadows of the surrounding trees and bushes, but he knows it won’t help if Peter wins their fight. And with Peter’s Alpha powers, and with how weak Derek is, he doesn’t know how he can’t win.

Stiles closes his eyes, and waits for it all to be over.

***

Stiles has blood on his hands. In fact, it’s not just on his hands. There are droplets of it on his face, long stripes on his once white shirt. There are pools of blood quickly seeping into the forest floor, soaking through the knees of his jeans.

A few feet away lies the mangled body of Peter Hale, his neck a mess of blood and gore. He’s almost gone – he’s not the one Stiles is worried about.

Derek lies in front of him. Stiles is hovering anxiously, holding his breath, scared that any disturbance will somehow make his injuries worse. At the same time, he’s scared that he’s not doing enough.

His eyes are closed, his breathing is weak, chest barely rising. There are deep cuts in his side, slowly healing bruises and swellings on his face.

Stiles isn’t completely unscathed either – there’s a cut above his eyebrow that’s still bleeding, blood dripping down into his left eye. His shoulder and a few of his ribs are probably bruised from where he’d been thrown into the wall, but Stiles can barely feel the pain. He can barely feel anything, completely focused on the man in front of him.

“Derek,” Stiles whispers. His voice is a rough mess, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t get a response.

“Derek,” he says again, shaking his head, breathing heavily.

A panic attack is coming, Stiles can feel it. He’s lightheaded from the hyperventilating and the blood loss. And then Derek opens his eyes.

And his eyes are glowing red.

“Oh thank god,” Stiles sobs out, and he all but collapses onto Derek’s chest.

“Stiles?” Derek says quietly, confused as he moves his arms slowly up to embrace him. “You’re okay?”

“Yes, yes,” Stiles says. “I’m fine. You fucking scared me, you dick.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, but he’s smiling.

“Fucker,” Stiles says, shaking his head. “Can you sit up?”

Derek nods, and sits up slowly. He glances over at Peter’s unmoving body, before looking back at Stiles. “Is he -?” Derek doesn’t finish his question but Stiles gets it anyway.

“He’s gone,” he says.

He nods. “Good.”

***

“I think I saw your mother last night,” Stiles says absentmindedly, rubbing at where his shoulder is still throbbing from hitting the wall earlier. They’re back at the hotel now. The sun is rising slowly, light barely peeking in through the windows.

Derek looks up, tearing his eyes away from the slowly healing wounds on his chest. “My mother?” he asks, and when Stiles looks at him, he’s got a crease between his eyebrows.

“And your sister, I think. Your younger sister?” Stiles asks tentatively.

“Cora?” Derek asks, looking more confused by the second.

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. “It was probably just some weird hallucination from hitting my head when Peter threw me into a wall –“

Derek shakes his head, reaching out and grabbing Stiles’ hands in his. “No, no, I believe you,” he says. “Well, my mom always used to tell me that there was something special about this land. That no one ever truly leaves it. Maybe there was something more to that than just silly bedtime stories.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Stiles says. “I mean if werewolves are a thing, who knows what other stories might be true.”

“Yeah,” Derek says. “Who knows.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on [tumblr](http://illusemywords.tumblr.com/)


End file.
